


Underbaked, Underloved

by dyingsureisfun



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (minus wilbur's because sir why), Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Found Family, Gen, Guitars, He/Him Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Running Away, Siblings, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Swearing, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, finally a bit of fluff appears!!, i did that but made it somehow worse, i really took a break from writing dsmp to write more dsmp hmm, only romantic realtionships to be tagged are the canon ships, pseudo-adoption, stop me, summary will update as story continues, y'know how most people looked at canon said 'nah' and made it happier?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingsureisfun/pseuds/dyingsureisfun
Summary: It's early one Saturday morning when they arrive in town.
Relationships: Eret & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 39
Kudos: 125





	1. chapter 0: niki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeartBandages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartBandages/gifts).



> for everyone:
> 
> uh, hi  
> so,,,, this is probably not what anna meant when they gave me the simple "baking au" prompt, and i'll be real this was _supposed_ to be fluff.  
> but uh,,,, it spiraled  
> enjoy the show i suppose, no one on this train knows where it's going, least of all me :)
> 
> next chapter will be out when i've finished it and the next one! that either means around monday or in several months, my writing schedule is a mess lmao. once those two are written though i should have gotten in a habit meaning i _should_ be able to pump out chapters on a (semi) consistant basis  
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> for anna:  
> ha ha, whoops
> 
> also please give me a chapter title i'm out of ideas, my mind is in writing mode and i can't do titles  
> please

The air was cold, as it always was, and the morning mist had yet to burn off when Niki flipped the sign at the front of her shop to ‘open’. She knew no customers would drop by for several more hours, but she preferred to not have to think about the sign later in the day when the steady stream of customers kept her and Puffy busy.

One of her timers goes off, reminding her of all of the work she still needs to do, and she hurries back to where the dough is sitting, silencing the timer as she walks.

She’s only halfway done with her careful folding of the dough when the bell over the front door rings. Niki pauses for a second, scrambling to think of the time, before brushing it off as Puffy. Niki isn’t sure why Puffy wouldn’t use the door to her own shop, but she supposed the other could be forgiven considering that the flower shop was a mere curtain-covered hole in the wall away, and she would likely be needing breakfast.

“There’s fresh croissants in the basket!” Niki calls out to Puffy, not expecting a response. “You can have  _ two _ , I have an order due!”

There’s a stretch of awkward silence before Puffy moves again, her steps shifting the floor as she walks up to the counter. There’s an odd shuffling noise like she was carrying something heavy, but Niki dismisses it as a trick of her mind.

Another one of her timers goes off as she finishes, holding her in the back for a few minutes longer. When she finally pokes her head out into the storefront again, expecting to see her girlfriend stuffing her face with day-old pastries only to find a kid (teen?) holding tight to a toddler, half a croissant hanging out of their mouth.

They stare at each other for a long moment as the kid juggles the toddler over to one hand and pulls the croissant out of their mouth.

“You said I could have two.”

Niki laughs in disbelief, she technically  _ had _ . “Fair enough,” she said, pulling her hair out of the ponytail it was in while she was folding. “Which one is that one?”

The kid shuffles the toddler around again, taking a bite of their croissant. “First,” they pause as they chew, “was saving the second for Ranboo.”

_ Ranboo? _ Niki rolls the name around in her head. She presumes that the toddler is Ranboo, but she knows nothing about the kid in the first place. For all she knows, they could be referring to their father or an imaginary friend.

“Ranboo?” Niki asks, deciding to risk it. The kid hesitates for a moment as though they didn’t realize exactly what they’d said, taking another bite of their croissant before answering.

“Ranboo’s my brother,” they say quietly, quietly moving themself between Niki and the toddler who’s still passed out on their shoulder.

Niki nods, trying to make herself look as unthreatening to the kid as possible. “Would he prefer a cookie?”

The kid blinks, startled. 

“I don’t have any money.”

Niki hums, silently weighing the situation. “Well, I’m sure you can find time later to drop by with your parents and buy something else then. These ones can be on the house so long as you can do that for me.” Niki smiles softly at the kid who looks away guiltily.

“He’s not here,” the kid mumbles quietly enough that Niki almost misses it. They say something else that sounds suspiciously like “he wouldn’t care enough if he was”, and Niki isn’t quite sure how to deal with the situation any more.

The kid’s a runaway. They’re alone with their baby brother in town so isolated the nearest town is over two hours away. Where’d they come from and why are they running so far?

The kid shuffles their feet, nervous energy radiating off them, and Niki is struck with the realization that they have to be freezing. She glances over them, a knot of worry steadily growing as she takes in the threadbare sweater, jeans whose ends are soaking implying they’ve trekked through the dew-covered grass, bare feet, red from the cold and walking on the road, faded backpack, trembling hands, and heavy bags under their eyes. 

Another timer goes off in the back.

The kid’s brother, Ranboo, is wearing nothing but a set of half-black-half-white footie pyjamas and a too big beanie shoved onto his head to keep his ears warm. The bottom of the footies are clean, meaning if the kids had been outside the elder had carried their brother the entire way. Niki’s heart cracks.

She lifts up the barrier between her and the rest of the store and hurries over to the door. Niki flips the ‘open’ sign back around and sets about pulling closed the fluttering curtains. When she turns back around to face the kid they’re standing closer to the door than she remembers, eyes blown open in shock as if it’s unbelievable that someone would help them. (Niki shoves the maternal need to deal with that into the back of her mind for the time being.)

“So, what’s your name, kid?”

A beat.

“Wilbur…” Wilbur pauses, his last name hovering unsaid on his tongue, “Wilbur Soot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,,,,,  
> i should explain some things, huh?
> 
> ok, so,  
> \- in this au wilbur is 15  
> \- niki and puffy are 25 and 28 respectively, and ranboo is 4 (maybe 3 idk)  
> \- ranboo and wilbur are biological brothers  
> \- eret, niki, and fundy are all siblings  
> \- wilbur's real last name is in fact not soot (take a guess at what it is y'all, you'll never get it /s)  
> \- niki runs a bakery and puffy's flower shop is attatched to it :D  
> \- l'manberg is a tiny seaside adjacent town (that DOESN'T get blown up thank you)  
> \- the smp (as in the place not the server) is a slightly bigger town a few miles away - niki however knows (pretty much) all of the people who live there, so she assumes Wilbur isn't coming from there which is why she says the closest town is 'several hours away'. the closest town minus the dsmp is several hours away.  
> \- wilbur (and ranboo) came from somewhere else ~ooo~
> 
> i'd put more but my brain is empty  
> if you need anything else cleared up just ask in the comments! some things i will not be able to tell you (spoilers for the future and all that) but i sure can try!  
> chapter two _will_ be longer, i promise


	2. bittersweet chocolate - wilbur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's cold outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i, in fact, do not have the next chapter written but,,,, uhhhhhhh
> 
> don't worry about it :)
> 
> if you need me to tag any trigger warnings just let me know!
> 
> jan 18th: made minor edits bc sleep-deprived me forgot them, sorry if this gave you a notification :pensive:

Wilbur isn’t sure how long it’s been since the last town. The night makes it hard to tell where he is, his only indicator of going the right direction is the sharp pains in his feet whenever he steps off the painted line and onto the asphalt road.

This wasn’t what was meant to happen. Ranboo should be warm and safe on a bus, not stranded and shivering in his arms as he slowly carries him down the side of the road. He should still have enough food in his backpack to feed his younger brother, not an empty section in his bag and an even emptier wallet.

Ranboo, still asleep and Wilbur thanks whatever gods live above he is, nuzzles his face further into Wilbur’s side, his nose a freezing spot on his neck. Wilbur doesn’t hesitate as he pulls his beanie off his head, shoving it over Ranboo’s.

He should have done that earlier. He’s so fucking stupid. Ranboo needs the warmth far more than he does. And, really, who was he kidding? Ranboo should be back at ~~home~~ the house. Wilbur was so incredibly fucking _selfish_ to be dragging the boy along with him. (If Wilbur thinks for a few seconds, he knows it not to be true. He knows it’s just as cold in the house as it is out, and that, so long as there was a town anywhere near, both he and Ranboo have gone longer without food before. But he also knows that at least back home Ranboo had a roof over his head. More than three pairs of clothes. Kids his age. ~~Someone besides the screw-up that is Wil.~~ )

Ranboo snuggles into his neck more, burying his face the little warmth Wilbur is still giving off. Wilbur, ignoring the burning pain in his arms and legs, picks up his pace, borderline desperate to get ~~them~~ Ranboo somewhere warm.

But the darkness is unforgiving and by the time the sun has started to rise, and Wil can actually see the damp blades of grass catching the bottom of his pant leg, and the (now suddenly packed dirt) road beneath his feet, there’s still no town in sight. Desperation forms a lump in his throat. The road _has_ to lead to somewhere.

Right?

He pushes back the memory of driving down long roads in the countryside with his ~~dad~~. The way the roads could stretch on into infinity. There was still always a place at the end of them. He just had to go a little further. He just had to get ~~them~~ Ranboo somewhere safe.

A hill, (that Wilbur doesn’t process till it’s under his feet and maybe he should’ve been more concerned about that) looms ahead as if taunting him. Shoving in his face how pointless and stupid this whole thing had been.

But Wilbur staggers on, barely processing the aching of his limbs (the burning in his throat, the sharp pains in his feet and fingers) anymore. 

And then the hill is gone and, from the top of the hill, in the slowly growing light, he spots it. A tiny town nestled in between two swaths of trees. It looks quiet. Safe.

Wilbur feels like crying. Like jumping for joy. Like running. Like falling over where he stands and never getting back up again. (And he would’ve if the constant weight of Ranboo didn’t remind him that he had ~~other people~~ another person to care for.)

His legs are weak, his arms tremble from the effort, but he stumbles his way down the hill, desperation giving him a boost where adrenaline failed him.

The faint scent of salt in the air is quickly drowned out by the smell of baking bread as he reaches the borders of the town, and Wilbur’s stomach rumbles. He doesn’t quite remember the last time he ate more than a single granola bar for a meal, and even that had been over two days ago.

What he assumes is the bakery has its sign flipped to open, and Wilbur staggers inside without a second thought, bathing himself in the warmth the building offers. A soft bell tinkles overhead as the door swings shut behind him, trapping the wafting smell of baking bread and pastries in the air around him. The warmth settles over him like a blanket, easing the tension out of his shoulders.

Muffled sounds of movement come from the back, the owner probably, and Wilbur hardly has any time to process that before a soft voice rings out.

“There’s fresh croissants in the basket! You can have _two_ , I have an order due!”

Wilbur freezes in place, mind racing. The owner clearly wasn’t talking to him, he doubts they even know he exists, but there’s no one else in the shop or (as far as he remembers) out on the street.

Eventually, Wilbur decided that _someone_ has to eat the offered croissants, and whoever the owner thought he was wasn’t there to do it.

The shop’s layout was, thankfully, simple. An empty glass display case, that Wilbur assumed would be filled with bread in a few hours, that connected directly to the polished dark wood counter that cut the back of the store off from the front. A few (also empty) stands that could be filled with pastries. A curtain was strung up over a part of the wall, fluttering slightly like there was space behind it. And, Wilbur supposed, in this case, most importantly, hanging off of wire racks on the front side of the counter were several wicker baskets, one of which that was filled with croissants.

He takes a few hesitant steps towards the counter, carefully shifting Ranboo over to one arm as he walks. (He ignores the way his arm can barely support his younger brother at this point. Ignores the way he can feel it shaking with effort.)

He grabs a croissant, taking a large bite without hesitation, and letting the delicate layers of the pastry melt on his tongue. It tastes like heaven, though Wilbur isn’t sure if it’s because it’s the only food he’s had in the past 48 hours or if the baker is simply that good (he hopes it’s only the latter but the logical part in his brain, and his stomach, tell him otherwise).

Halfway through his first one, the pain in his arm gets to be too much, and he relegates himself to eating without his hands in favour of not dropping his younger brother. Of course, he only gets a few more bites in before the owner emerges from the back, poorly masked surprise filling her eyes as she takes in the sight of him.

Wilbur internally sighs, shifting Ranboo to his other arm, silently praying his arm strength wouldn’t give out, and pulls the pastry out of his mouth.

“You said I could have two,” he says, words hanging in the air (and god was his voice always that scratchy? How long had it been since he drank water?).

The owner laughs slightly like she isn’t entirely sure Wilbur is really there, her body and mind seemingly restarting as she takes her hair out of the ponytail it’d been hanging in. “Fair enough. Which one is that?”

“First,” Wilbur answers hurriedly, not wanting to risk losing the second. Ranboo would need food when he woke up. Not that the owner needed to know that. But he should really get himself a better brain to mouth filter since on autopilot he immediately follows up his last statement by blurting out- “Was saving the second for Ranboo.”

The owner’s eyes light up with confusion, eyes unfocusing for a moment like she’s mentally scanning through a list. Wilbur takes the time to take another bite of his croissant, it’s _really_ good.

“Ranboo?” the owner asks, startling Wilbur. _How did she-? Did he say-? Oh, he’s such an idiot-_

“Ranboo’s my brother,” he says, if just to shut his brain up, pulling Ranboo further into his side as if that’d protect him more.

The owner nods, something that Wilbur can’t quite place shining in her eyes. He figures that’s the end of the conversation. That she’d grab another croissant and hand it to him as she ushers him out the door-

“Would he prefer a cookie?” 

Wilbur pauses, blinks, stares at the owner for a long moment. “I don’t have any money.”

The owner hums, nodding to herself. “Well,” a short pause, “I’m sure you can find time later to drop by with your parents and buy something else then. These ones can be on the house so long as you can do that for me.”

Wilbur bites down on the flash of resentment and guilt that floods him, tearing his eyes away from the owner’s face. “He’s not here,” he says shortly. ‘ _And he wouldn’t care enough if he was_ ’ Wilbur thinks bitterly, forcing all thoughts of blond ~~and brown and pink~~ hair out of his mind. He holds Ranboo tighter (croissant finally gone) in his arms, anxiety forming a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. He’s not losing ~~this~~ his brother. He refuses to.

There’s movement in the corner of his eye, and he snaps back to attention to see the owner briskly walking towards the door. Of course.

He moves numbly to the door, eyes glued to the floor as the door opens. But then it closes, and the owner is moving around shutting curtains.

What.

Wilbur watches, frozen in place and not entirely sure if this is a dream or not. Shouldn’t she be sending him out? Moving on to better, more important things? Getting him out of sight and out of mind? That’s what ~~Dad~~ and his teachers did, shouldn’t it apply to other adults?

The owner turns back around from the windows, ~~pity~~ worry in her eyes, and a soft smile stretched across her face. “So, what’s your name kid?”

“Wilbur,” Wilbur says, and every instinct in his body screams at him to say ~~W~~ his real last name. “Wilbur Soot. You?”

“Niki,” Niki says, her smile finally reaching her eyes. Wilbur smiles back.

Then he stumbles forward, thrusts Ranboo into Niki’s ~~confused, concerned~~ waiting hands, and promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll never guess who the rest of wilbur's family is /s /j (ok you might actually not anna bc you don't know this fandom but,,, everyone else uh)
> 
> also sorry this chapter didn't really add much, i thought it was important to get wilbur's view of this  
> also also, when will i stop relegating ranboo to just being there asleep? ~no one knows~


	3. home is where the hearth is - fundy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick lore change:  
> \- wilbur is 16, bordering on 17 rather than 15 bordering on 16  
> other than that everything's the same :)
> 
> sorry this chapter took so long i wasn't quite sure what i was doing with it  
> i do know what next chapter is gonna be so,,, be excited i guess???
> 
> uh, enjoy!  
> if you need any triggers tagged just let me know :)

It couldn’t have been later than nine in the morning when Fundy was rudely awoken by the front door slamming open.

The following sounds (though muffled by doors and walls) of frantic footsteps, the low rumble of Eret’s voice, and the softer tones of Niki and Puffy’s cut through the sleep-filled haze he’d been lying in.

Groggily pulling himself to his feet, and quickly running his hand over his chest to make sure he wasn’t wearing his binder (he wasn’t and thank god for that), he rubs the remaining bits of sleep from his eyes, shuts his laptop from where it still sits open on his desk, and yanks his door open. 

Eret freezes in place from where he’s standing in front of Fundy’s door, one arm raised to knock and the other carrying a kid? 

Eret clears their throat, dropping their hand back to their side. “Fundy,” he gestures between Fundy and the toddler, “this is Ranboo.” 

“Okay?” Fundy says slowly. “Pleasure to meet them or whatever.” 

Fundy can’t see Eret’s eyes, but he assumes they roll them behind their sunglasses. “Will you need to sleep anytime soon?” 

Fundy pauses, eyes flicking between Ranboo and his sibling. “Why can’t you just use your bed?” 

“Wilbur,” Eret says quickly as though that explains everything. (It doesn’t.) But Fundy (ever the loving brother) sighs, holds up three fingers, and slams the door on his sibling’s face. (He can hear Eret grumble under his breath, and walk away down the hall towards his room.) 

When Fundy reemerges ten minutes later, binder on and laptop (fully charged!) tucked under his arm, Eret is nowhere to be found. He lets out all his air in a long sigh, letting his feet guide him towards the kitchen.

Niki, weirdly enough, is home and pacing around the kitchen (probably stress baking if the dirty apron and working oven were any indications) when Fundy enters the room, muttering something under her breath. Puffy leans against their counter talking softly into her phone.

Fundy, deciding not to risk it, nabs a still cooling baked... thing (he refuses to learn _all_ the different pastries that Niki’s learned how to make) and starts his escape to the living roo-

“Fundy!” Goddammit.

He spins back around with a tight smile to rival Puffy’s own. (She’s winning in that regard but Fundy thinks that he’s _far_ better off losing this battle.)

“Yes, Puffy?” Fundy replies in the light, forced, happy way he normally relegates to just his grandparents.

“If you’d be a dear,” Puffy starts, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness (and, oh, she’s being as much of a bitch as he is), “and go check on Wilbur-" (seriously who is this guy?) "-for me.”

“Oh, I’d _love_ to-”

“He’s passed out in Eret’s room,” Puffy interrupts before he can worm his way out of whatever this mess of a situation is.

“I’d _love_ to,” Fundy repeats, forcing the words through his teeth. Puffy smiles back and dismisses him with a lazy wave of her hand. (Just to spite her, Fundy makes sure to knock the pillows she made for Niki off the couch when he walks through the living room.)

There is, in fact, a strange kid dead to the world in his sibling’s bed. He looks to be about Fundy’s age, maybe a bit younger. A faded backpack, (which seems to be empty) that Fundy doesn’t recognize, leans against the foot of Eret’s bed.

The kid, (Wilbur was it?) shifts around under the blankets, snapping Fundy’s attention back to him. When Wilbur didn’t move again after that, Fundy took that to mean he could leave, popping the rest of his pastry into his mouth (and, oh, Eret would be _mad_ at him for the crumbs he’s getting in their carpet) as he walked out the door.

Except, right as he’s turning around to _close_ the door, Wilbur starts, and his eyes fly open. He’s awake.

Fundy freezes, not sure what to do (or if Wilbur even knows he’s there). The logical part of his brain screams at him to ‘ _go get Niki, Puffy, Eret,_ **_someone_ **’, but he stands, still frozen in place, as the kid starts to have a panic attack.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fundy was the absolute worst person for this. Eret was the best at talking people down, and Niki was the most comforting person Fundy had ever met. Fundy was just the youngest one. The loud one. The one who threw a ridiculous amount of his time into coding things he’d only use once or twice.

He had no idea what to do, which is why he has no idea why he stepped back into the room. (Distantly he knows that Niki and Puffy are in the kitchen and that Eret is probably lying the toddler on the couch in the study, but they feel too far away for this situation.)

“Uh, hey,” Fundy says, holding his hands up as he approaches Wilbur (and it feels more like he’s talking to a stray cat than a boy). “Hey.”

Wilbur stares him down, some strange amalgamation of fear, disbelief, and confusion splattered across his features. He draws back from Fundy, crumpling himself into a ball, back pressed against the headboard. His breaths come in short and quick, and he’s shivering despite the warm midday air drifting in through Eret’s windows.

Fundy slowly moves to sit on the edge of the bed, hands still in the air with his palms facing Wilbur (he supposes he’s doing it to prove to the other boy that he isn’t holding anything dangerous, but it’s not entirely clear even to _him_ what his motives are).

“I’m not exactly sure how to help you,” Fundy starts (some deeply buried part of his brain that retains information that he skimmed over at four AM screams at him to hand Wilbur something to hold- but Eret’s stuffies are all neatly put away), “but I’m going to sit here.” Fundy ends his statement, realization flooding his mind a few seconds late. “Is that okay?”

Wilbur hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly, breaths lessening in volume (but not in frequency) as if he was more concerned about bothering Fundy than he was feeling better himself.

Fundy flounders in the silence that follows for a moment, mind racing for a topic that he could feasibly talk about for however long Wilbur needed companionship.

“Niki started baking only a few years back. She said she does it just for fun, but it’s easy to see she does it to provide for us. Which is weird considering the fact that we’re doing fine in terms of money. Not that she knows I know the state of her- and Eret’s but he doesn’t care as much- bank account,” Fundy has no idea where he’s going with this.

“I mean, sure, starting her bakery has been something that really helped her mental health, but honestly it could just be the ‘working with Puffy part’, maybe both. Oh, Puffy’s her girlfriend. Fiancé? I dunno, but Niki has a promise ring. That means something… right? Not my problem. My point was, Niki’s been doing a lot better with the bakery open and all, but it’s really been bringing her motherly tendencies out which gets _annoying_. Cause, I mean, who likes having their older sibling dot on them. That’s what _parents_ are for-” (Fundy misses the way Wilbur, who’d been slowly uncurling as he talked, flinches at that) “- at least I’ve heard from Dream. But who’s really to say? From what I gather Dream’s mum is a bit more invested in her son’s life than most, or at least that’s what Geo-”

“I’m gonna be honest, you lost me real quick there,” a rough voice, still shaking and soft from tears and anxiety (and holy shit how long has it been since this kid had a drink?), cuts through his rambling. Fundy nearly pops his neck with how fast he spins to face Wilbur who gives him a small wave (and a distinct look of slight discomfort in his eyes) for his efforts.

“Uh,” Fundy says, (truly a beacon of knowledge with that one-) “I’m sorry?” There’s a long beat of awkward silence before Fundy’s brain catches up with what’s happening. Strange boy. Eret’s room. Panic attack. Awkward ramble about his friends. ( _Click_.) “No. I’m not- not that I’m not sorry about losing you!- I- My fault- uh- Sorry! Wait, no- It’s not your fault?” (Fundy wants to become one with the floor.)

Wilbur, surprisingly enough, laughs. (Fundy is about ready to force the other to drink something, no one laughing should sound like they’re in that much pain.)

“It’s alright, er-” Wilbur trails off, looking mighty uncomfortable for someone dressed in a sweater, on a bed, in a room lit gently by sunlight and a spattering of fairy lights.

“Fundy,” Fundy says (and it still somehow feels weird to introduce himself like that, old name on the tip of his tongue despite how long it’s been).

“Wilbur,” Wilbur says and Fundy bites down hard in his tongue so he doesn’t say something weird and creepy like ‘I know’. “Have you- Do you-” Wilbur trails off into silence, hands fiddling with his sleeve ends. (Fundy stares at him, completely at a loss.)

Wilbur takes a deep breath (Fundy can still see his hands trembling) and locks eyes (steadily and determinedly) with Fundy. “I have a-” he cuts himself off again. (Fundy has no clue what he’s supposed to say) “Do you know a Niki? I sort of… passedoutinherbakery.”

It’s Fundy’s turn to burst out laughing (though he stops quickly, not liking the way Wilbur shrinks back slightly, fear starting to shine in his eyes). “Sorry, sorry. Yes, I know her.” (Wilbur’s eyes light up again, and he starts to pull himself off the bed) “She’s my sister.”

“Perfect,” Wilbur says, nabbing the backpack off the floor (and really this was where Fundy should’ve stopped him). “Well, tell her thank you for me?” he’s shrugged the backpack on (but slowly, like he was in pain) and turns around like he’s moving to pick something (someone) up. But there’s nothing on the bed, and the light drains out of his eyes again. “And,” he starts again, almost too soft for Fundy to hear, “tell her to take good care of Ranboo for me.” (The puzzle pieces click together again and _wow_ Fundy is slow at this.)

“Wilbur, _Wil_ ,” Fundy starts (and now he’s the anxious one and this situation has gone horribly wrong), but Wilbur just (softly, sadly) smiles at him and makes his way to the bedroom door.

But then Wilbur stumbles, hands flying out to catch himself against the door frame, and Fundy can see the panic seeping back in. He springs off the bed, hands out to gently guide Wilbur to the floor, but Wilbur’s already fallen, face contorting in pain.

“I’m gonna go get Niki,” Fundy says and bolts, leaving the door open behind him. He hurtles around the corner to the kitchen, nearly slamming his elbow into the counter, and sliding (he really shouldn’t be running in socks) to a stop in front of Niki.

“Wilbur. Eret’s room. Doorway. Collapsed.” And Niki’s gone faster than he’s ever seen her move before.

Puffy wrings her hands nervously for a second, before ushering him to the couch (she lightly swats his arm when she sees the state of the pillows) and using his laptop to put on Treasure Planet. Fundy isn’t sure why she’s acting like _he’s_ the one that needs to be taken care of, but he appreciates it nonetheless. 

(Eret joins them, sunglasses shoved to the top of his head, halfway through the movie. Fundy would ask where Ranboo was, but he’s heard the pattering of light footsteps upstairs over the last hour and has a pretty good idea.)

The movie ends, and Eret restarts it under the pretence that they hadn’t seen the beginning (which Fundy knows is a lie. Treasure Planet has been played at every family movie that he can remember). When Niki joins, it’s the same. Then (though he perches on the edge of the couch and leaves half an hour in) Wilbur. Once more when Wilbur comes back (this time bringing Ranboo who sits and stares at the movie in awe). Again and again and again.

Fundy knows he’s the only one awake when (six or seven watches in) his laptop dies and no one moves to plug it in. He doesn’t move either, mostly because Wilbur (who’d somehow been pulled into the centre of the group) was passed out on top of him. 

Someone’s blowing up his phone (which he’d thankfully stored in his hoodie pocket a day or two ago) he notices as he tries to drift off. (It’s Dream mostly but the group chat has also chipped in.)

Fundy falls asleep surrounded by his family (and those about to become his family) halfway through writing a text back. If Dream or the others were ever bothered by it, they certainly weren’t the next morning when Wilbur sends them a hastily taken photo of Fundy curled up among his family. Blackmail material and all. (Though there are odd empty spots on the couch and in Puffy’s arms where other people could clearly fit, and it's not clear _who's_ taking the photo.)

The rest of the week, however, (for a variety of reasons) is pure radio silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fundy is 15, eret is 27  
> the siblings (fundy eret niki) all live together in a house  
> their parents died a while back so fundy doesn't really remember them :D  
> (also side note i really don't know what a panic attack looks like to an outsider so,,,,, hhhh)
> 
> next chapter will be a bit of a time skip :)
> 
> and here's where i'm gonna take a page out of ro's (HeartBandages) book and introduce myself  
> you can call me guin or quinn, i use they/them pronouns
> 
> ~~please leave me comments~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been a week since wilbur ran away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter today, my mind is racing with thoughts about the newest tales from the smp stream

There are many things that should’ve tipped him off to something being wrong.

The house being dark and quiet when he pulled up in the driveway. The lack of Ranboo racing out the door to tackle-hug him as best he could. The front door being slightly ajar despite Wilbur’s insistence on it staying closed. The fact that Wilbur hadn’t picked up any of his calls.

They’d just been loose pieces to him when they should have been a full puzzle. And now he was paying the price.

The twins, though still napping and warm, had been left abandoned in their beds. Ranboo’s dresser was half spilt on the floor, the other half missing. Wilbur’s room was locked shut. If it wasn’t for the crumpled note tucked under the flower vase on the dining room table, he’d have thought Wilbur had been kidnapped. The note his brother had left however spelt out a very different story.

Though, he supposed, it didn’t really matter in the end. His brothers were gone and his dad wasn’t around to notice or stop it from happening. Wilbur had left and taken Ranboo somewhere else because he didn’t think home was safe enough.

There’s the sound of footsteps from upstairs. One of the twins is up but he can’t find the energy in himself to go tell him where his brothers had gone.

“Wil?” a soft voice calls out from upstairs. “Wha’ time is it?”

He sits frozen at the dinner table, crushing the note in his hand as the footsteps make their way over to the stairs.

“Wil?” his younger brother calls out again. He still doesn’t move.

There are more creaking noises as his brother makes his way down the stairs. Then, softly, “Techno?” a pause, “’re back!” and all of his brother’s concerns over Wilbur not being there fly out the window.

Techno gives his brother a soft smile, nails tearing through the note and into his palm more and more the longer he clenches his hand. His other hand comes to rest on his brother’s shoulder who beams up at him.

“Yeah buddy, I’m back.”

“Do you know where Wil went? He said we could go shoppin' when I woke up!”

Techno pauses, a lump forming in his throat. His brother blinks up at him, innocent and confused.

“Wil… Wil and Ranboo are gonna be gone for a bit.”

“Oh… okay! Like Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy... like Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	5. insomnia cookies - sapnap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -shoves away my last two posts-   
> such happy much wow
> 
> so, i'll be real this is half of a chapter, but i need a town name before i can finish this so,,,, toss me some names for the smp? like,,, actual names i'm not calling it 'dream smp' :)
> 
> enjoy this short bit of fluff (i'm setting up some angst) :D

It’s nearly midnight when Dream crashes through his window. Literally.

Sapnap, peaceful rest now ruined, stares down at his best friend who in turn grins up at him sheepishly.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks, though not too loud as to not wake the rest of the house up. Dream’s face falls quicker than Sapnap’s ever seen before. He opens his mouth to respond, but Sapnap cuts him off with a quick wave of his hand. “If this is about Fundy ghosting us all again I will kill you.”

“It’s  _ not _ ,” Dream grumbles, pulling himself up off the floor. He doesn’t even wait for any prompting before immediately launching into a ramble that Sapnap instinctually tunes out. It’s pointless to try and understand him in this state.

Dream claims his bed (still talking) as Sapnap extracts himself from his covers and flicks on his lamp. He debates calling over George, but a quick glance at the time tells him not even the end of the world could wake his friend at this point.

“-and I mean what kind of dumbass name even is Milo?” Dream whines in the background. And yep, nope. Sapnap immediately tunes him out again. He’s not listening to Dream  _ speak _ the exact same ramble he sent in the group chat a few hours ago. Not again.

Could he get someone else to deal with this? Quackity would become an enabler. Karl would pass out soon after he was called. If Fundy wasn’t the reason Sapnap was in this situation, he’d have called him and had him deal with Dream, but, again, the root of the problem. Eret and Niki had both gone silent along with Fundy. Bad wouldn’t be lucid enough to deal with the situation for several hours. Ugh. He really was going to have to deal with this by himself.

“Dream,” Sapnap cuts in, stopping Dream in the middle of his tirade about sweaters or something, Sapnap didn’t care enough to remember. “This was a guy you saw in fucking  _ Petco _ talking with Fundy about  _ fish _ in  _ town _ . If it were a bad situation, why the fuck would they hang around town?” 

Dream looks like he’s about to protest. “ _ Plus _ -” Sapnap starts again, raising his volume ever so slightly, “-Fundy clearly had his phone on him. He’s probably just been coding some shit the past week and forgotten to text us. Tomorrow he’ll send us his download link of Minecraft’s most realistic fish, or whatever, so  _ please _ shut up.”

Dream grumbles something under his breath that Sapnap would probably catch if he wasn’t sleep-deprived. But he was and Dream wasn’t leaving, so he resorted to old faithful.

Dream makes a sputtering noise, shoving on Sapnap’s stomach. “Get off me!”

“No,” Sapnap mumbled into his mattress. “I’m going to sleep.”

“But I’m still here!” Dream protests, continuing to shove at his shoulder. “Do you really want me to be here tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow,” Sapnap argues, “and Mom won’t care, you’ve done this before.” Dream makes a few more noises of protest before finally settling down, pulling something (his phone probably) out of his pocket and giving Sapnap enough silence to fall back asleep.

It was in fact his phone, Sapnap finds the next morning when he wakes up to find Dream fast asleep, his phone resting directly beside his face, screen lighting up with silent text notifications. He scrolls through them quickly, they’re all from his mom.

Sapnap grumbles, stretches, and throws Dream’s phone on his windowsill. “Mom!” Sapnap yells, leaning slightly towards his door, “Dream’s over! Others might be coming later!” A muffled hum of approval is his response, and he takes it as good enough.

Dream’s still asleep when he’s finished changing into fresh clothes for the day, and his phone is about to vibrate itself off the perch Sapnap’d put it on.

“Jesus,” he mumbles, nabbing it and plugging in Dream’s password as he flops backwards into his desk chair. He swipes through the new notifications, barely paying attention as he dismisses them until a contact name catches his eye. “See I told you,” Sapnap mumbled, scrolling past Fundy’s message to delete more spam from underneath it. “Coding week.”

Dream, coincidentally enough, chooses that moment to stir, kicking Sapnap’s blankets off with fervour. “Why the fuck is your room always so warm? You run the warmest out of all of us.”

“It’s not ‘too warm’, you’re just weird,” Sapnap half-heartedly pokes back, clearing out the last of Dream’s unneeded notifications. “Fundy texted, by the way. Like I said he would.”

Dream’s by his side in the blink of an eye, yanking his phone from Sapnap’s hands. “Say that first next time,” he mumbles as if Sapnap didn’t say it  _ second _ .

There’s a bout of awkward silence as Dream taps away at his phone, visibly growing more annoyed every time his phone buzzes. It quickly reaches the point where once Dream’s done sending his message to Fundy, he throws his phone onto Sapnap’s bed, and promptly ignores it.

“Won’t you miss it if he texts back?” Sapnap asks, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling while Dream raids his closet.

“Nah, I’ve got custom alerts,” One of George’s shirts is thrown into a heap next to him. “If it makes a noise it’s important.”

Sapnap stares pointedly at the still vibrating phone, tilting his head slightly to avoid Dream’s hoodie from hitting his head. “Don’t tell your mom that.”

He can hear the wolfish grin in Dream’s voice when he says, “I already have.”

Sapnap bites down on his laughter, content to sit in silence till Dream reemerges, nabbing his hoodie off the ground. George’s shirt falls out from underneath it with a soft thump.

“You should really return that,” Dream says, yanking his hoodie over his head. “He’d kill you if he knew you were the one who’d had it all-” But whatever Dream was about to say was cut off by a distinct chirping noise. Two sets of eyes snap to the phone on the bed.

Dream honest to god lunges for the thing, fingers flying across the screen as he unlocks it. There’s a short beat of silence then- 

“Who the fuck is Wilbur?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the name of this chapter is the cookie store from tumblr, but shhhhhhh
> 
> if this chapter feels off i'm sorry, i'm in a bit of writer's block at the moment and it's messing with me but i wanted to write some happy things in this universe so,,,,, here we are
> 
> next chapter (whenever that is) will also be at least half happy, i promise


	6. all good things must come to an end eventually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the phone is ringing. it's for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up after a month of nothing with starbucks*  
> hey y'all
> 
> dsjsdfbjh  
> so you know how i promised fluff? uh,,,,,,, :)

Ok, so, maybe he was overthinking a bit.  _ Maybe _ .

Wilbur paced the length of the bed again, fingers drumming against the side of his phone. All he had to do was turn it on. It wasn’t like there’d be any notifications for him anyways.

He just needed to turn it on, wipe out his contacts,  block one or two, and let Niki plug her info into it. Simple. Easy. 

It’d only take a few minutes tops, and once he did it he’d be home free. No more chance of Ph-  _ him _ contacting him. 

So why was he hesitating?  ~~ He knew why. ~~

He let out a frustrated groan, throwing his phone onto the bed where it bounced slightly, coming to rest with the screen still facing up. All he had to do was hold a button down for a few seconds. All he had to do was turn the phone on. All he had to do was tap the screen a few times.  ~~ All he had to do was sever all connection he still had to his brothers . ~~

Wilbur flopped down on the bed after his phone, burying his face in the comforter. This was going to be annoying him all day, he could already tell. Stupid brain and it's fear and attachment. Stupid lump of anxiety in his throat.

He turned his head to the side to breathe fresh air, the side of the phone stared back. He turned his head in the other direction. The reflection of sunlight bouncing off the phone screen sat firmly in the top left corner of his vision. Wilbur buried his face back in the comforter and let out a muffled scream.

Three light knocks rang out from his door. “Wilbur?” Eret called, and Wilbur could practically see the worried look on his face. “You good?”

“Fine!” Wilbur yelled back, pulling his arm out from under him, and using it to grab his phone. “Just forgot my password for a moment!” His phone didn’t have a password, he’d always figured no one cared enough to steal his phone.

Eret clearly didn’t believe him, if the way they lingered by his door was any indication, but they didn’t make any more remarks in the period of time before they walked away, so Wilbur considered it enough. Of course, now Eret expected him to be done with this quickly. Fuck.

He took a deep breath, and nabbed his phone. All he had to do was turn it on. Simple. Easy. Just  _ press the button, Wilbur _ .

The screen lights up and Wilbur lets his finger slip off the power button. There. Done. He’d done it.

The anxiety that’d been pounding through his veins gently eased off, seeping out of his shoulders. Wilbur let out a shaky exhale.

His lock screen shone back at him. No notifications. Just like he’d thought. Good. Then all he had to do was block-

_ Ding _ .

Wilbur froze as the notifications suddenly flooded his phone.

_ Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding. _

Missed phone calls from Techno. Missed text messages from Techno. Missed Facetime calls from Techno. Voice mail messages from Techno.

‘ _ I’ll be home soon. _ ’ ‘ _ Wilbur? _ ’ ‘ _ Ok, well, when you see these let me know. _ ’ ‘ _ Wilbur, pick up the phone. _ ’ ‘ _ Wil please, I’m worried. _ ’

The notifications started to roll in fast enough that he couldn’t read them anymore. Not that it mattered. Tears had long since blurred his vision, and the phone had slipped from his grip not long after.

Of course Techno was worried. Of course he’d managed to fuck up so badly. Of course he’d managed to twist his brother in such a way that he thought him disappearing was a bad thing.

And then it hit him.  _ Ranboo _ . He’d taken Ranboo with him. Techno had to be concerned about Ranboo. God, he was such an idiot.

Of course Techno would be concerned about Ranboo. In his perspective, Wilbur  ~~ the fuck-up, the lesser, the weak one, the needy, the one who can’t do anything right by himself ~~ had disappeared into the night with his younger brother. Of  _ course _ he’d be worried, anyone in their right mind would be!

He was such an idiot. No no no no no no no no no.

He hardly heard his phone ring over the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He fumbled for it, forcing his voice to calm down, ready to swipe ‘accept’ when the contact name registers.

_ Dad _ .

The single word blazes its way into his eyes, the text floating in the front of his mind even as the phone slips out of his fingers again. He doesn’t realize he’s started crying until a hot tear hits his hands. He doesn’t realize he’s making noise until Niki bursts into the room, Eret hot on her heels.

Niki wraps him in a hug, whispering comforts that he can’t quite hear, while Eret nabs his still ringing phone. Her brow furrows in concern and confusion, uncovered eyes darting up to catch Wilbur’s gaze. Wilbur shrinks back, burrowing his face in Niki’s shoulder.

“Hey Wilbur,” Niki says soft and gentle, hand gently resting on the small of his back. “I’m gonna need you to breathe, okay? In and out, real slow with me. Alright?”

He manages a shaky nod, and Niki carefully pries his face off her shoulder so she can see his face. Eret moves to his other side, slipping his hand into Wilbur’s so he has something to cling to.

“There you are,” Niki said softly, a small smile gracing her lips. 

~~_ It’s fake. She’s forcing it to make you feel better. You should feel ashamed for making her do that for you. Look at you demanding something from her, you  _ **_burden_ ** . ~~

“Focus, Wilbur,” Niki chides softly, indirectly pulling Wilbur’s gaze back to her face. “Don’t listen to your thoughts, alright? Now, I need you to take a deep breath in for me, okay?” Wilbur nods, shakily drawing in a breath at the same time as Niki.

“Good, good. Now out,” Eret lightly instructs from the side, and Niki slowly releases all her air. Wilbur follows suit.

“In again,” Niki takes another deep breath. “And out.”

The process continues, Eret and Niki taking turns gently guiding him through breathing exercises until his hands finally stop shaking. The post-panic attack exhaustion slams into him like a truck.

“I-” Wilbur starts, and he hates how weak his voice sounds. Hates how his tiredness seeps into it. Hates how close he sounds to tears. 

He drops Eret’s hand and they thankfully move it to their lap without any fuss. “... Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Wilbur?” Niki asks, gently moving her hands from off his shoulders.

What is he sorry for?  _ What _ ? What was there that he wasn't sorry about? 

He’s sorry for forcing himself into her and Eret’s and Fundy’s lives. He’s sorry for being a burden. He’s sorry for taking their actions as them caring about him. He’s sorry for being so dumb. For dragging Ranboo along on his stupid attempt at making things better. For taking their food, their extra room, their clothes, their money, their time. For making them pay attention to him and cater to his needs just because  ~~ Dad Phi ~~ \-  _ he _ hadn’t considered him the favourite child. For abandoning  _ them _ when he said he’d always be there for the two of them. For being such a screw-up. For-

Oh, he was crying again.

“For everything,” he offers with a shrug, moving to wipe the tears off his face. Niki’s brow furrows, and she begins to chew lightly on her lip in worry.  ~~He’d done that. Why couldn’t he do _anything_ _right_?~~

“Wilbur-” Eret starts, her voice laced heavily with sympathy, regret, sadness, but Wilbur’s heard and hurt them enough. The bedroom door is only a few steps away.

“Wilbur!” Niki shouts as he hurtles his way down the hallway.

And then the bathroom door is slamming shut behind him, and the window frame is falling to the ground.

The sidewalk is a familiar feeling under his bare feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~you think i can tag this as sbi as family yet or should i wait to do that for when i introduce them~~
> 
> so,,,, um,,,,,  
> next chapter dream and wilbur meet pog???? :) (i'msosorry)


End file.
